


Beginning to Doubt

by Pimento



Series: Destiel based around episodes [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Feels, Castiel-centric, Destiel - Freeform, Doubt, Dubious Consent, Feelings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 06:31:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5858026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pimento/pseuds/Pimento
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 4 Episode 3 In The Beginning.</p><p>Castiel watches Dean suffering and he doesn't like it.  Follows on from You Should Show Me Some Respect.  http://archiveofourown.org/works/5417768</p><p> </p><p>'He heard the call to return to heaven, he had completed his mission, so what was this lingering sensation, this strange tug in his chest and why was he so reluctant to leave?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginning to Doubt

Castiel waited patiently on the dark street. He could see the demon bitch in the car, her true face looking about anxiously for Sam Winchester. He was playing a dangerous game, but he would be gone with Ruby for some time. Time Castiel could use. As the car drove away he zapped himself onto the bed in the room at the Willow Motel.

He waited patiently as the nightmare of his time in hell played itself out, and Dean woke, vulnerable and apprehensive. He knew he would sense his presence.

“Hello Dean,” his head turned with robotic smoothness as he looked over his shoulder, feeling the dip of the bed as Dean turned towards him, exuding a mixture of anxiety and irritation. “And what were you dreaming about?” he asked, allowing the hint of menace to hang in the air, and for the knowledge that he knew very well and did not need an answer to sink in.

Dean turned away, anger setting his jawline. He had to be shown, stubborn mule, that he must stop Sam. Castiel moved the pieces, and sacrificial pawns lined up to play their destined parts. 

Dean woke up on a bench in 1973…and Castiel observed. One last little push in the right 'wrong' direction. "You have to stop it," he instructed before making himself invisible, before Dean could turn back.

Castiel had a churning sensation in the stomach, and a weird painful twang in the heart, as he watched each step, each painful moment. How hard this brave and determined young man tried to solve the puzzle, fought to save his mother and father. Castiel waited patiently only appearing when he needed to nudge or manipulate, but as he sat in the passenger seat as Dean drove along the moonlit asphalt, listening to him deal with the conflict of knowing that saving his parents would cost others their lives, would ultimately cost him a great deal. Something strange began to happen. He, Castiel, had known all along, there was no hope of changing their destiny, but as Dean had shared his fears and worries, a weird sensation had grown in his chest, a tingling almost painful spasm that grew more the more he heard. That was why he had zapped out of there before Dean had turned back. He did not want to see the distress in the handsome face. He could not bear to hear anymore.

And now the deed was done, Mary had given in to Azazel, John Winchester woke in her arms, and stared confused at Samuel’s body.

His actions had caused this courageous, determined soul terrible pain. He must follow his orders, but this did not seem right. His father did not want his creations to suffer like this. It was cruel, surely it could not be what was intended. He touched Dean’s shoulder, pain etched on the handsome face as he turned, the depth of suffering in those moss green eyes causing that curious sensation in the chest to swell into something unbearable, the pupils dilating, as their gazes crossed.

Castiel gently dropped Dean back into sleep on to the motel bed, clearing his mind of dreams, giving him temporary reprieve from it all. Mary was still going to die in that Nursery. Castiel, Angel of the Lord, was not supposed to have feelings, they were counterproductive for a soldier. His orders were very clear, and cruel as it was, this boy had to understand that there was a greater purpose here, but…

He waited patiently for Dean to wake, knowing that he had succeeded in pulling the right strings, knowing that Dean would do everything in his power to find Sam, and pull him away from Ruby. It was an Angel’s duty to follow orders and to show the humans the error of their ways, but there was a constant thrum of discord in Castiel now. He tried to ignore it, he certainly knew better than to discuss it with anyone else, but the sensations and reactions to things in his vessel were highly confusing. Was this what it was to doubt?

He moved towards the sleeping man, his face was finally at peace. No nightmares of hell, just deep relaxation, his face passive and childlike in sleep. He was as beautiful as any painting, or sculpture that Castiel had ever seen. A perfect creation. Castiel reached out tentatively to stroke the back of his fingers over the stubbly chin towards the soft satiny skin of the cheek, as Dean had stroked his cheek in the moonlit bathroom many weeks before. 

Castiel was fascinated, his father’s creations were many and varied, and yet there was something about this one, not just the perfection of the face, but his manner and his strength of purpose, and his ...Castiel floundered for the word...intensity. Castiel had been told he was fated to be very important, he did not know the extent yet, but it was possible this beautiful sleeping man and his foolish brother were the most significant humans of their generation, maybe of many generations.

The lips were full and deep pink. He touched them casually with his thumb, they were warm and soft. He pulled the bottom lip down gently exposing the row of neat little white teeth. His other hand was resting casually on the spiky hair, it was a curious mixture of softness and bristles, and his fingers wriggled through it reflexively, enjoying the sensation. Absorbed in the exploration as he was, he suddenly realised that Dean’s breathing had changed, becoming at first deeper, then shallower. Dean gave a little murmur, half moan, half sigh. Castiel shuddered, his whole vessel convulsed. It was vaguely pleasurable, even though he had no idea what was going on. He stepped away, slightly alarmed at the overwhelming urge to make lip to lip contact again, and pulling himself together he waited for Dean to wake.

His orders were clear, make Dean Winchester understand that fate cannot be challenged, that what is destined will come to pass, and set him on a collision course with his brother. Dean awoke with a start, cold realisation that he had failed to save his parents causing fresh pain. Castiel tried to ease him as much as he could, but orders were orders, the powers that be wanted Dean anxious, and the threat against Sam had to be made. Either Dean stopped Sam playing with demon blood, or the angels would intervene.

Castiel watched as Dean grabbed his things, and stormed away to face off with Sam.

He heard the call to return to heaven, he had completed his mission, so what was this lingering sensation, this strange tug in his chest and why was he so reluctant to leave?


End file.
